


All the Old Familiar Places

by Polexia_Aphrodite



Series: Gone for Soldiers [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen, PTSD, Steve Has Issues, just a little something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 06:37:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polexia_Aphrodite/pseuds/Polexia_Aphrodite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knows what this is, because she's seen him go through it before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Old Familiar Places

**Author's Note:**

> This little drabble is heavily influenced by _Steve Rogers' American Captain: A Diary Comic_ (http://americancaptaincomic.tumblr.com), which is one of the best things I have ever seen produced in any fandom, ever.

_The blast opens the side of the train car and the cold air that rushes in hits Steve's face like a slap. He's on the ground when he sees Bucky pick up the shield. The train thunders underneath them. There's a flash of blue light and he's gone, out the gaping hole, and for a second he thinks Bucky's just gone forever._

_Steve launches himself towards the opening anyway, and sees Bucky clinging to the railing, desperate and terrified. Bucky reaches and the railing gives way. Steve can do nothing but watch him fall, all the way down, his helpless scream echoing through the ravine._

*

"You okay, Cap?"

Clint's voice is quiet and unexpected next to him. Steve has long since come to terms with the fact that Clint won't talk to him outside of battle or training, and just an hour earlier, he had bristled and crossed his arms when Steve took the empty seat next to him.

The Alpine train car, the icy air Steve could almost feel, the gripping dread and terror of the last few moments, falls away and suddenly Steve remembers where he is: in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s specially-designated Avengers Initiative briefing room, the team sitting around a giant glass-topped conference table while Fury drones on in front of a projected slideshow. He can feel beads of sweat pouring down his back under his shirt, his face and palms feel clammy, his head is swimming and his chest feels tight. He's sure he looks awful, and he's thankful that the lights are lowered.

He looks over at Clint, and sees the uncharacteristic concern in his eyes. He manages a brusque nod. He can feel Natasha's gaze on him from across the table.

"Excuse me," he gasps, mentally scrambling to avoid breaking down as he rushes from the room. He ignores Fury's call after him.

In his wake, a long pause settles on the room. Tony shifts uncomfortably; Fury shuffles through his notes.

From his seat next to her, Bucky looks over at Natasha.

"I got this," she murmurs, touching his knee under the table and slipping from the room.

She finds him in the hall, leaning against a wall, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents passing him by without notice. He's remarkably pale and struggling to catch his breath. If she didn't know him, she'd say he looked sick. She marches up to him, and sets her hand on his elbow.

"What's going on?"

He shakes his head, trying to rattle out the offending thoughts, "It's…It's…"

She knows what word he's looking for: _flashback_. She knows how he hates to use the vocabulary the psychiatrists at S.H.I.E.L.D. gave him, because he hates to think of himself as someone who needs their help (even as he encourages Bucky to keep all his appointments with them). But she knows what this is, because she's seen him go through it before.

She pulls him through the hallways of S.H.I.E.L.D., past the usual low-level gawkers and high-level hardasses. They pass by Maria Hill, and for a moment she seems like she wants to stop them, to ask them if they need help, but all Natasha can think is _get him out of here_ , and she shoves Steve into an elevator. The subway sounds like a terrible idea, so she takes a Cadillac from Fury's fleet.

"What happened?" she asks as she tears out of the underground parking garage.

His head is tilted back against the headrest; his eyes are squeezed shut. "Fury said…something. What was he talking about?"

"Sarkisian's crew is targeting trains. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s going to search all the passenger trains coming out of Athens for explosives."

"Hell," he runs his hand through his hair. "Bucky," he starts shakily, "When he…when he fell. There was a train."

"Ah."

For the rest of the drive back to his apartment, they're both silent.

*

When they get back to his place, he makes a beeline for the couch, sitting with his elbows on his knees, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He's finally gotten control of his breathing, but the ache at the back of his throat won't go away.

"I'm going to call James."

He straightens, suddenly alert, one hand gripping the back of the couch as he turns to face her. "Don't—Don't tell him about what I told you. I don't want him to know I still think about that stuff. I…I don't think it'd be good for him."

She nods curtly and retreats into the kitchen.

Bucky answers on the first ring, like he's been waiting for her call. She tells him Steve's fine, just needs to lie down for a while. Nothing to worry about. But Bucky worries anyway

"I'll be right there," he announces.

"No," she tells him, more harshly than she had intended, "We're good here. I need you to make excuses and take notes. You know how he is; he'll want you to tell him everything tonight."

She hangs up before he can protest and heads back into the living room. He's still on the couch, staring at nothing.

"You want to be alone?" she asks as she sits next to him.

He looks at his hands, his eyes bleary and voice small, "No."

She reaches over and takes one of his hand between hers.

"It isn't getting better, is it?" he asks, after a long silence, "The nightmares and…all the stuff? Bucky seems—Bucky seems better."

He almost sounds jealous. It's true: Bucky _is_ better. His nightmares have dropped off, he talks more and drinks less.

She frowns. " _Bucky_ accepts the help that's offered him. And he's got _you_ to force him to go to counseling."

Steve frowns back at her.

They settle back against the cushions. Natasha makes coffee and Steve finds an old movie on TCM. Her phone keeps vibrating, though, and she keeps tapping on it like she's writing a book. He wonders if Bucky's checking in.

*

_need you to come to steve's. 521 2nd ave, brooklyn, apt 205. how soon can you be here?_

_Why?_

_rough day. could use your expertise._

_I'm not that kind of doctor._

_don't care. you owe me. please._

_Give me 30 minutes._

*

Steve's nearly drifted to sleep, curled against Natasha's shoulder, when a knock at the door startles him awake. She practically springs up from the couch to answer it. Steve follows her out of curiosity and finds Bruce standing in his threshold.

"I was just in the neighborhood—" he's explaining as he catches Steve's eye over her shoulder.

"You were in Brooklyn?" Steve counters, "What were you doing in Brooklyn?"

"I just…I come here sometimes."

Steve's eyebrow lifts skeptically, but he shrugs and steps aside so Bruce can come in.

"Actually, I was thinking we could go out," Bruce shifts from foot to foot and smiles, "It's nice out. You could show me your neighborhood."

Steve looks at him for a long moment, then at Natasha.

"You go," she says, "I have work to do."

Steve narrows his eyes at her, but shrugs, pulls his jacket off the hook by the door and follows Bruce out.

It's not bad, actually. The weather has already started to thaw into spring, and as they walk Bruce, surprisingly, does most of the talking, switching between his latest research and the litany of ridiculous stunts Tony's pulled just in the last few weeks. They get slices of pizza to-go and find a bench in Prospect Park.

"She's worried about you, you know. Natasha." Bruce says, folding his slice and taking a bite.

"I wish she wasn't."

"Hm," Bruce chews thoughtfully, "It's my experience that people who have people to care about them never appreciate it as much as they should."

Steve looks over at him and Bruce smiles, a little ruefully.

"She wants me to see the head shrinkers, like Bucky does."

"You don't want to?"

"I don't know." Steve takes a bite and the two of them stare at the grassy lawn ahead of them. "Do you think I need to?" he asks after a while.

Bruce shrugs, "Couldn't hurt, right?"

Steve smiles, a little lopsided. "Couldn't hurt."


End file.
